


throwing a line out to sea to see if i can catch a dream

by combustible



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: "its for the aesthetic", Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, I guess we could say there is fluff as well but who knows (not me), It is about anxiety, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Self-indulgent one shot, i needed to write this to be at peace with post-timeskip!kuroo, in lowercase bc im an arrogant bitch, kuroo is just so tired, kuroo!centered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:49:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combustible/pseuds/combustible
Summary: "the taller man swallows, vision blurry as the spreadsheet cells start glowing in front of his tired eyes."- a post-timeskip!kuroo (and oikawa) character study
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	throwing a line out to sea to see if i can catch a dream

**Author's Note:**

> hello beautiful people
> 
> this is just a piece i wrote on the day chapter 401 was published bc i couldnt cope with the fact that kuroo was so attracted to money.  
> i needed to get it out of my system to move on and keep writing about kuroo without _hating_ him.
> 
> so i thought i might just as well publish it, right?

_have you ever felt like nobody was there?_  
_have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere?_  
_have you ever felt like you could disappear?_  
_like you could fall, and no one would hear?_

✧

_ what’s the point anyway? _ kuroo thinks staring at the spreadsheet on his laptop. numbers are dancing in front of his eyes, a burning feeling impregnating his retina.  _ just another line _ , he tells himself,  _ you’re almost finished, you can’t let everybody down,  _ his brain screams. he remembers the time he’s heard that the voice in your head will always speak at the same volume regardless of whether it’s yelling or not, but suddenly, with his heart beating in his ears, he can hear his inner voice scream at him like it was at a 110% volume. 

he blinks several times and slowly inhales, the familiar rush of emotions overtaking him.

“kuroo?” a small voice comes from his right.

“sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” kenma sighs and he sits next to his boyfriend, puts his head on his shoulder, his hand on his waist.

“you know, you’re allowed to stop working once you’re out of your office.”

the taller man swallows, vision blurry as the spreadsheet cells start glowing in front of his tired eyes. he  _ knows _ office hours are a thing, but he’s already so  _ slow _ , so  _ pathetically slow, _ if he limits himself to the hours written on his contract, he will fail. fail. fail. he’s already failed anyway, but he needs to keep trying. because he has so so many things to prove. that he’s worth it, that the strings he pulled were not the only things that brought him there, but only a helping footstool, that he’s worthy of his own  _ name.  _

“kuroo, breathe with me,” kenma takes his hand away from his laptop that falls from his knees to the floor. it’s not high enough to break, not that he cares anymore as his thoughts start spiraling, bouncing against the walls of his cranial cavity with full force.  _ it’s just another spreadsheet you need to read through, why can’t you do this, it’s  _ **not** _ that difficult.  _

but kenma brings his hand over his chest for him to feel his heartbeat and the slow, calming rise and fall of his breathing rhythm, and it takes a while, but eventually, his own breathing starts to calm as he repeats the numbers in his head, five, five, seven, five, five, seven, five- five- seven.  _ breathe you ungrateful piece of- _

“kuroo, it’s okay.” 

they’ve been doing this for so  _ so  _ long, kenma can now guess when he can speak, when to intervene to stop his fatal whirling thoughts.  _ but is it really okay?  _ is it okay to rely so much on someone who’s known for their own struggles? he’s the older one, he’s the  _ captain,  _ he should know better than to rely on kenma. frail kenma who’s always struggled with his own much harsher issues. 

after all, he’s only doing this for the sake of  _ attention _ . he’s only doing this so kenma would eventually take him to bed, pull him away from this stupid laptop that he only wants to break with a hammer. he’s only doing this to get someone,  _ anyone’s  _ attention, to not be in his  _ own goddamn head _ anymore. even the tears that are streaming down his face and the sobs that make his own giant frame shake are just a  _ manipulation.  _ because that’s who he is in the end, right? a  **snake** who lures people into his nest to  _ break them,  _ makes them believe he’s worth it when, really, merely good enough to deserve to live. 

kenma finally lets go of his hand, and maybe he’s done with him, finally done, because he’s pulled the crying-until-i-can’t-breathe-anymore card way too often. but he simply takes the laptop from the floor, makes sure everything is saved, and puts it on the coffee table before closing it.  _ and really, he should finish reading this fucking spreadsheet. _ it’s really not that hard. but the truth is, it fucking is. how can his brain be so fucking broken that he can’t read a damn spreadsheet? it’s what he’s paid for. it’s what he’s supposed to be good at. what he’s supposed to  _ love.  _

but what does he  _ love  _ anyway?

definitely not his job. but he’s good at it. and it looks good in his father’s eyes. so he keeps on doing it.  **a fool with** **_fucking daddy issues_ ** , that’s what he’s become, a pathetic sad man. so, yeah, he doesn’t love his job. he doesn’t  _ hate it _ per se, but he sure as hell doesn’t  _ like  _ it. but eh- what’s the big deal? it’s not like his father had liked his job.  _ the most important thing, at the end of the day, is how much money you make out of it. _

he doesn’t love his job, but really, he doesn’t love anything else either. 

the only thing he  _ knows _ he loves, is kenma. beautiful, kind and perfect kenma. they’ve been together for ages now, even before they would even realise it. but he’s so perfect it’s starting to get on his nerves, he’s been feeling it for a while now, the crippling anger that would take over his body as kenma would talk about his perfect fulfilling job.

how can someone  _ love  _ their job? 

why can’t he? why can’t he be satisfied? 

it’s paid well enough, it allows him to wear suits and look impressive, it makes his father  _ smile, _ he gets to meet people who are still passionate about the things they do. he gets to work with something related to volleyball. he even gets to see bokuto sometimes.

so why can’t it be  **enough** ? 

why does he always feel like he’s  _ drowning  _ in his own head?

he sighs when kenma comes back from the kitchen with two mugs of herbal tea and a blanket in his hands. they’ve done it so many times in the past months, but it still doesn’t seem to bother him, so kuroo lets himself be spooned on their couch, kenma’s small arms tight around his waist as he lets himself drown, his thoughts finally shutting down. 

it makes everything feel better for a few instants, for a few hours, but he knows his voice will come back, spitting insults at him, unstoppable in his own head,  _ you stupid fuck, ungrateful bastard, that’s why your mother wouldn’t stay, that’s why your father wouldn’t love you, you deserve this so don’t even start crying.  _

but kenma’s careful kisses on the back of his neck and the soft feeling of his bouncing ball hoodie against his bare skin makes his shoulders relax until he starts snoring quietly. 

✧

**it's hard to love someone when you can't even love yourself** , oikawa thinks as he watches iwaizumi study, flipping through the pages of a giant book about anatomical stuff, things he wouldn't understand even if he tried. some say  _ you can't truly love someone if you don't love yourself _ . but oikawa doesn't believe in this. and maybe it actually goes the other way around. maybe it's harder to love yourself if you've never felt love for another person.

or maybe it's easier to love someone when you hate yourself, oikawa thinks as he watches the sun set from a touristic beach in california. maybe it's better to give all the love caged in his own painful heart to another person. someone who  deserves it more than himself. in that way iwaizumi wouldn't end up leaving, because oikawa would have given him everything, even what’s left of what people usually call self-love.

oikawa is not a complicated man, his mind is not as intricate as many seem to think it is. he may overthink things, but it always comes down to the same conclusion: he bears the burden of all their failures. his own, iwaizumi's, and matsukawa's, and hanamaki's. he's even played a part in tendou and ushijima's downfall at their last high school tournament. maybe if he had been a greater opponent, his rival would have ended up winning against the unexpected tornado that was karasuno. he's the reason why his parents divorced, and the reason why his grandmother died alone. he's the one who broke his own family apart just by existing, the one who made his mother come to argentina as her own mother passed away.

"it's not impossible to love someone when you don't love yourself," oikawa says over the phone when kenma unexpectedly calls him from the other side of the globe. 

"i just feel like he doesn't- like he doesn't see that hurting himself is hurting me too." a small whisper finally comes and oikawa sighs. he sounds so tired, so exhausted, and is that how iwaizumi feels each time he has to see him overwork himself?

"i know but this is stronger than him, it's bigger than him," but he doesn't know if he's trying to defend kuroo or himself anymore.

_ it's not impossible to love someone when you hate yourself _ , oikawa thinks. but it maybe it does make things more complicated after all. he's seen the pain in iwaizumi's eyes, each time he falls on the floor, knees weak under his mental recklessness. he's seen the distant look on his face, when he'd say "i'm not gonna make it anyway."

iwaizumi used to fight him on that, used to tell him he was stupid for believing he was anything other than  _ perfect _ , that he was a great setter, used to yell at him and hold him close as oikawa would shatter on the ground. iwaizumi used to make him believe, even for a second, that he was worth something, that maybe, for all that he's ordinary, there was still something worth saving. 

but as the years had passed by, sweet words had gotten silent, yells had become quiet and iwaizumi had stopped answering his outbursts. maybe to protect himself, maybe because he truly didn't care anymore, maybe because oikawa had finally worn him out. oikawa had no idea why, but not loving himself had  **never** made it impossible for him to love iwaizumi with everything he had and wasn’t able to give to himself.

"don't give up on him, ken-chan." he says, as soft as he can. "he will get around it eventually.” or at least, he hopes so. 

_ no one can teach you how to love yourself _ . iwaizumi had tried and tried and tried and failed. he had tried yelling in plain sunlight and whispering sweet words in his ears at night. but you  can't fix someone by loving them. so he had stopped. if he has stopped caring, oikawa doesn't know. if he has stopped loving him, oikawa doesn't know. but he sure does hope he hasn't. maybe he has just stopped showing it, has grown tired of oikawa's lack of response to his tender and violent ministrations.

"love him with everything you have and maybe some light will get through, eventually."

"but what if i don't have enough light for the both of us?" 

kenma's voice is soft but harsh, like he knows what he's doing, like he's trying to get oikawa to say something he doesn't want to say himself.

✧

_ he could have been one of them, _ kuroo thinks as he watches kageyama nail a service ace that makes him arm twitch for a second. he’d never been as passionate about anything as he had been with volleyball.  _ but what if you don’t make it? will you get a second job to simply afford food?  _ he hadn’t even had to ask his father. he had already known the answer, loud and clear. he hadn’t been good enough anyway. he wasn’t bokuto, wasn’t hinata, or kageyama, or ushijima. 

“do you miss it?” a too familiar voice comes next to him as the man sits on the seat directly on his right, in the vip room above the court. he’s bigger now, his face is wiser, but his signature grin is still there and he’s still as attractive as ever.  _ motherfucker _ . kuroo wants to punch him right in the face -and, maybe, deep down, he still wants to  _ ravish  _ him. 

“i do.”

“you were scouted, though.”

“i was.”

“you were good.”

“apparently.”

“so why?”

kuroo lets his eyes rest on hinata and kageyama’s red jerseys. he could have been one of them. or maybe not. he’ll never know. but oikawa doesn’t miss the sigh he lets out as he tries to find an answer that doesn’t sound too pathetic. the setter wouldn’t understand anyway. they’re almost carbon copies of each other, in the way their brain works, in the way they overthink every single detail, unhealthy as they get. 

but he wouldn’t get it, because he had chosen another path. rebellious and determined. unapologetic in his choice of career in the way kuroo had dared to be. if kuroo had always been pressured to make money out of everything he got, oikawa had decided to fight for his dreams. kuroo had just given up.  _ coward _ .

“i was scared.”

“and are you? still?”

“i guess. i don’t have your guts, tooru.”

“i’m not telling your to go pro now, it’s probably too late for that anyway.”

“i know.”

“you don’t have to overwork yourself for an industry that will throw you out without much of a thought when they don’t need you anymore.”

“but-”

“tetsu-chan, you’re worth way more than that.”

“and what should i do, then? uh? i’m not kenma, i’m not you- i’m just-”

“scared? too ordinary? believe me, tetsurou, i know everything about being ordinary.” and kuroo can only remember the many times he’s had iwaizumi over the phone, scared shitless for oikawa after he’s lost against shiratorizawa once again. “but i’ve learnt that  _ geniuses _ are only geniuses for as long as they work hard.”

“so you decided to kill yourself trying to get at their level.”

“well i  _ am  _ here, ain’t i?” oikawa grins. 

✧

“kuroo,” kenma enters his office one night and he sits on the top of his desk, his legs under him as he fixes the man sitting in front of him with smart golden eyes. “i’ve been thinking about- things.”

and with these few words, kuroo can  _ see _ his whole world shattering around him, imaginary building falling to the ground as millions of thoughts erupt in his head, dancing behind his eyes.  _ he’s been working too much for kenma, but not enough for his boss, he’s let everybody down, why can’t he just be  _ **_enough_ ** _ for once? _

“i love you, with all my heart, i’ve loved you for so long-”

“but there’s a  _ but _ ,” kuroo whispers, looking away, bitter before kenma can even say something.

“ but you need help. professional help.” he continues and he brings a slow, careful hand on kuroo’s cheek, eyes soft as he caresses the skin under the plump of his fingers. “i can’t watch you destroying yourself like this and do nothing.”

“i can do it, kenma, it’s just a few more years and i’ll get promoted and i’ll get more free time,” kuroo tries but kenma shakes his head.

“no. that is not happening, you can’t  _ postpone _ your life. i won’t let this happen because i know this is not what you want, this  _ job _ is not what you want-”

“and what if it is?”

“what do you like about it?”

“it- it’s- i  _ connect _ people, i help volleyball players enter the big scene, i get to see them grow and-”

“you reward the best people and you leave aside the weak ones.”

“well, that’s how the world works.”

“i know. this doesn't mean you like doing it. do you think this is what makes you happy? because if so, i will support you, but it sure as hell does not look like you're enjoying yourself right now.”

“i don’t know, kenma. but tell me, then? what should i do? volleyball is over for me, this job at least pays me well, i get to meet with bokuto often enough thanks to it, and my dad-”

“i don’t know what you should do, but you definitely shouldn’t let your _ dad _ , or me, decide for you.”

“but-”

“i will be with you in every step of the way, i will hold your hand during your panic attacks and help you breathe when your thoughts are drowning you, but please, kuroo, you’re  _ killing _ yourself here.”

“okay.”

“and i won’t be able to help you with everything, because you’re  _ burning out _ , you- please. please, stop- stop destroying yourself to meet your father’s expectations.” 

with the start of their relationship, kuroo’s obsession with being the perfect son had gradually taken too much space in his own head.  _ if i can’t give him grandchildren, if i can’t bring him a woman to wed, then at least let me get a good job. _ why couldn’t he just do something  _ right _ for once? even kenma was getting tired of his bullshit, even kenma, perfect soft kenma was asking him to get a grip over himself, but what if he couldn’t? what-

“i am not giving up on you, kuro, i know how it gets, but i can’t do this alone anymore. you can take all the time you need, but please, think about it, and when you’re ready, we can go from there, okay? i love you, so much, you’re incredible, but you’re too blinded by others’ expectations to  _ see it. _ ” 

and when kenm holds his face in his hands, careful, as if holding porcelain, warm and soft against his skin, he thinks that  _ maybe _ , just maybe, kenma is right, and that maybe he’s a decent enough person. he exhales slowly and stands up to get closer to his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around the smaller frame, fragile but so so strong. he’s always been his rock, pliant, yet unbreakable. he presses his face against kenma’s dark roots and inhales the familiar scent of his apple shampoo, his body reacting to it in a pavlovian reaction, relaxing from the warm presence of the man he’s loved since he was probably eight. 

“i will try, but i can’t- i can’t promise you anything- yet.”

“i know, don’t- i know it’s hard for you, but don’t overthink it, okay? i will wait for you and i will help you as much as i can, i don’t want you to feel guilty about this, it will take time, and strength, but you’re  _ so  _ strong kuro, i know you will get there eventually.”

kuroo sighs and pulls his boyfriend’s body just a bit tighter against his chest, breathing against the top of his head and closes his eyes. kenma’s arms come around his waist to keep him here, where he belongs, broken or not, smiling or crying. 

his hand reaches for his laptop and he closes it, not even checking if his data was saved or not.

“what if i don’t?”

“then we will try again.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yootasuke).
> 
> this piece was completely rushed, but it is also the most personal one ive posted on ao3 yet. i thought i couldnt relate to kuroo more and then furudate gave us corporate kuroo.


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